


The Girl Was Never There

by ever_neutral



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_neutral/pseuds/ever_neutral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of them has to do the heavy lifting, so he will.</p><p>[S4]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl Was Never There

 

 

"What if we just left," he might say, casting out the suggestion like a lifeline. "What if we just did that."

She stares, mouth slack, heavy lids, the glint of blue from beneath her lashes telling him everything - which is absolutely nothing, in the end. Finally, "Why would we do that," a wary and small sound, because this is the person she is these days. This is her, completely her - but Freddie doesn't know who this girl is.

He resists the urge to cry, yell, scream, break something, break himself down into a thousand pieces maybe - nobody has (ever had) the time for that, and especially not her. "What, is that only okay when you and Cook do it?" Means it as a joke - he thinks - but Effy only hunches in on herself more, refusing to look at him. Freddie wants to kick himself. She's slipping away in more ways than he has it in him to count.

So he lets this wave of despair carry him, an uneasy impulse, bringing him to his knees in front of her. His hands reach out to clasp her cold brittle ones. She still doesn't look at him. He doesn't care. One of them has to do the heavy lifting, so he will. "Just come with me, okay?" Presses her cold cold fingers to his lips, like a faithless man clinging to something he might one day believe in. Someone else (not her) might be moved, this time.

"With me," he's murmuring into her skin, "Nobody else. Just you and me," hoping it does the trick. Finally lifts his head to meet her clear gaze.

"Okay," she simply says.

~~(But that never happened.)~~

And then they would run, like teenagers in love, like misunderstood youths fleeing broken homes, creepy health care professionals, adolescent drama, maybe even their own doom, and all they'd really need is each other, because love is really all that keeps anyone alive - he read that in a book, one of his mother's. Effy'd probably hate that book, but that doesn't matter, because nothing matters in this world except the two of them.

"It's you and me, yeah?" he repeats this mantra like he believes in it, like it fits in his mouth.

She wants to believe in something, so she nods and smiles slightly, leans in to press her cold cold lips against his own.

They might stay like that for a while, clinging to each other with the desperation of young (not-doomed) people in love - completely normal, in other words. Crowds would mill around them, some might stare, because two young people that much in love in this cynical day and age is rare, right, because what they have is something special and unique and forever, and if anyone tries to break them, break her, Freddie will fuck their shit up. He'll take a flying leap and kill them all if he has to. Because that's exactly what love's supposed to be.

"What'd you wanna do now, babes?" he would ask in the sort of tone that says they have all the time in the world, just the way she liked,arm snug about her shoulders and hers cinched around his waist; they're joined at the hip like nothing's ever gonna break them apart, not if he can help it.

~~(No, that never happened.)~~

"Hmmm," she hums into his collarbone, then turns her face slightly away to take a long drag of her cigarette, "fancy a show, maybe," blowing smoke through her perfect lips.

Freddie chokes back a cough, says in a sort of strained voice, "Sounds good. Anything particular?"

Her eyes light up with the sort of glint that says mischief (this - anyone can read well; this - was the old her). "In and out, yeah?"

He grins and accepts (because he should), lets the cloud of happiness settle around him, surround them like so much smoke from her near-burnt out cigarette.

He swears it doesn't fade until long into the night, after the janitor's started sniffing in their direction and grunting "hey"s at them. This is when Freddie takes Effy's hand and tugs, muttering, "Don't wanna get caught, Eff." 

She dances out of his reach, hands happily waving in midair (she was at her happiest in moments like this; he doesn't understand it), teases, "Where's the fun in that," and irritation prickles at the edges of his consciousness -- this is always how it starts, the descent, the _coming down._ But she's still high, hands stretching behind her head and swaying to the credit music wafting out from the nearest theatre, completely out of time, no less. 

The janitor's really staring now, leering, even, a makeshift monster in the gloom, cleaning gear abandoned.

Freddie glares in the other man's direction, clenches his fists, unclenches and takes a rough hold of one of Effy's arms, "All right, come on," pulls her with him in the other direction, to safety, and away from the fucking creepy cleaner with his broom and leering eyes. 

Out onto the deserted streets, just them alone, it's too quiet, too late, and Freddie thinks they should be getting back. Says so. 

Effy's sullen again, not looking at him. Instead she's gazing into the dark at who knows what, a faraway look in her dead eyes. Freddie wonders what she's thinking about. Maybe she's thinking about Cook. It's an ugly thought, pops into his head like a dirty needle pricking a hot air balloon. 

"Hey," Freddie says out loud. He pushes the ugly thoughts away and takes her face gently in his hands. "We'll move on tomorrow, yeah?" 

Her eyes take a moment to focus on him, distant and faintly confused, but then there's that moment, the one he can always pinpoint, where something happens, something clicks back into place - she comes to life, she's here and real and now, and she's his. Smiles, nods, "Okay."

He fits his lips against her cold ones; they kiss in the lamplight of a deserted city street, a stray plastic bag floating by them in the night breeze. 

In a few hours they'll wake to a new sun, a new day, a new chance to leave things behind: the musty motel room and the mildew on the ceiling, the leaky bathroom faucet and cracked mirror above the sink, the cramped and creaking bed where they lay and held on to each other and waited for light to creep in through the grimy windows. And it did. Eventually, it did. 

~~(But that never happened.)~~

 

 

 

 

  


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